


Casualty of Timing

by NerdyPanda3126



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Established Adrien Agreste & Marinette Dupain-Cheng, F/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:27:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29027196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyPanda3126/pseuds/NerdyPanda3126
Summary: Surprising your partner with a candlelit dinner and a diamond ring isn't supposed to go this way.Unfortunately for Luka and Marinette, the timing wasn't quite right.
Relationships: Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 17
Kudos: 36





	Casualty of Timing

**Author's Note:**

> Three things coincided for this fic to be written:
> 
>   1. I wrote [You Look Good in My Shirt](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28017150) which is a make up fic, and I gave very little context for the break up because I didn't want that to be the focus.
>   2. [Die from a Broken Heart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xbaoi-lifOM) by Maddie and Tae has been lurking in my playlist waiting for the opportune moment to strike
>   3. and finally, I had a terribly stressful day at work, providing me with the perfect emotional well for writing angst.
> 

> 
> Anyways, this happened. It can be read by itself but... you know what, I'll tell you when it's over.  
> Thank you so much [MalcolmReynolds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalcolmReynolds/pseuds/MalcolmReynolds) for giving this a read through!

Marinette gaped at the spread of food Luka had prepared for her as she walked in the door—complete with candles and flowers and a tablecloth—and worried for a moment she’d forgotten a big event. Anniversary? No. It wasn’t her birthday. It wasn’t his birthday. 

“What’s all this?” she finally asked. 

Luka shrugged and grinned as he uncorked a bottle of red wine and poured out two generous glasses. “I thought we could spend a little time together tonight, if that’s okay?” 

“Luka, I would love to,” she said, her voice full of true regret. “But I told Adrien I’d meet him at the studio in fifteen minutes.”

He finished his pour, set the bottle and glasses back down, then paused to look at her. She still had her coat on and her keys in her hands. “You just got home,” he said. “You’re already leaving again?” 

She shrugged her coat off and hung it next to his leather jacket. “This collection is demanding a lot of my time. I told you I wouldn’t be around much until after the show.” 

“You did tell me that. But you also told me you’d be home tonight.” 

“And then one of the gowns I’ve been working on for weeks trailed into a bucket of dye today and it’ll take all the time I have left just to fix it.” She didn’t mean to sound so annoyed. It wasn’t directed at Luka; more at her own oversight and the tediousness of having to redo the work. “Adrien offered to help me tonight so we could get back on track.” 

If she hadn’t known him better, she would’ve missed the split second that his jaw tensed before he forced himself to relax. Forced his expression into something neutral and blank. She hated it when he did that. He always felt like he didn’t need to burden her with what he was feeling. But it always created a fight until she’d pulled it out of him. 

“What?” she asked. 

“What do you mean ‘what?’” 

“You’re mad at something.” 

“I’m not mad.” He smiled as if to prove his point, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He blew out the candles before he lifted the steaming plates of food and moved towards the kitchen. She followed him warily.

“Luka will you just tell me? I don’t have time to play the guessing game tonight.” 

He lifted an annoyed eyebrow at that, but still said nothing as he set the plates down and turned away for a container. 

“Fine. I’m gonna go change before I meet Adrien. I’ll talk to you about it later?” She braced herself on his elbow as she reached up to press a kiss to his cheek. Again, she noticed the way his jaw clenched under her lips, and the way he didn’t lean into her touch like he normally did. She sighed as she pulled away and tugged her phone out of her pocket, setting her keys down as she did. 

“I thought you were heading out,” he said as he tipped the meal he’d made into the container. Her plate, she assumed, due to the slightly bigger portion of roasted vegetables that he knew were her favorite. He’d made all her favorites, it seemed. It smelled amazing. 

Her stomach grumbled at the thought of the missed meal and she eyed the container Luka had scraped everything into. There was a microwave at the studio, but if she hurried maybe it would still be hot and she could eat it there. She tapped out her text quickly and set her phone down on the counter to look up at Luka again. 

“I’m letting Adrien know there’s something you want to talk about and I’ll head out after.” 

“Marinette.” He stopped in his movements and leveled her with a look. “Go. Seriously. There’s nothing we need to talk about that can’t wait until after you meet Adrien.” 

The bitter way he said Adrien’s name pricked against her ear. 

“Is that what this is about?” 

He blew out a breath. “ _This_ is nothing. I’m not annoyed, I’m not mad, I’m fine. You don’t have to be late for anything on my account.” He snapped the lid on the first container and started on the second. 

“You are annoyed, though. You think I don’t know you well enough by now to tell?”

He opened his mouth, shut it, and clenched his jaw again before he took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. She reached out to tap the toe of her shoe gently against his. 

“Please tell me?” 

His eyes flashed at her before he sighed and finished putting his own portion away. She waited as patiently as she dared for him to gather his thoughts. As soon as the food was safely put away in the fridge, he turned to face her again and she was surprised at how dark his eyes had gotten. Stormy. It wasn’t like him. 

“It feels like you’re running away from me,” he said finally, quietly. “I never see you anymore, just a quick hello and goodbye in the mornings, and you come home late at night after I’m asleep. After _I’m_ asleep, Marinette, which is quite a feat. What could you possibly be doing out that late?” 

“I’m at work with—”

“Adrien. I know.” 

If the first time he’d said Adrien’s name was bitter, this time it was positively acrid. 

“Are you…?” No. He wasn’t. She shouldn’t even say it. But it was her only guess for why he was acting like this. “Are you jealous?” 

“No, I’m not—” his voice cracked as he tensed and he ran a hand through his hair before he took another calming breath. “I’m not jealous of Adrien,” he said carefully, emphasizing each word as if he were explaining to a child. “But you are spending a lot of time with him lately. You’re practically living at that studio.” 

“I told you, it’s my work. I lose track of time, I get absorbed. You should know all about that. You lock yourself in that room for days at a time sometimes.” She gestured to said room. The second bedroom that she’d hoped would someday be a nursery, taken over by guitars and a tornado of ripped sheet music and a drumset and there was a keyboard in there now? She didn’t even know he _played_ keyboard, let alone needed one. 

“I do get that—”

“And that’s another thing. You’re accusing me of never being home? When you’re the one out all the time at odd hours, sometimes here, sometimes there, I never know where you are, when you'll be back. At least _you_ know right where you can find me.” 

“So I have to come find you to spend time with you, is that it?” 

“That’s not—” Marinette huffed impatiently. “That’s not what I’m saying at all.” 

“So what are you saying?” 

“I’m saying, you’re just as absorbed in your work as I am. In your music. If I didn’t make an effort to come see you play, I’m not sure I’d ever see you either.” 

“An effort?” He snorted and brushed past her back to the table to continue cleaning up. “An effort,” he repeated. “Do you mean the one show you’ve made it to in the past two months? That’s your effort?” 

“What do you want from me? To drop everything I’m working on to listen to you play covers all night long? You’ve been working on one original song since I’ve known you and—”

“And it’s still not right yet!” At the same time he snapped at her, his hand tightened around the bowl of the wine glass he had picked up and it shattered. He jumped away from the mess on instinct. Marinette grabbed the kitchen towel and moved towards him to clean him up and check his hand, but he recoiled away from her. 

“Luka, your hands…” She tried again to come closer. 

“Does it matter? It’s not like my music will ever amount to anything. So why bother?” His sarcasm was venomous and she flinched away from him. As if to prove his point, he clenched his fists, wincing as a splinter of glass cut deeper into his palm. 

She sighed and knelt to dab at the spill on the floor instead. “That’s not what I said and you know it.” 

“You’re right. You were saying you don’t have time for me anymore.” 

She stopped and looked up at him. At his clenched fists and narrowed eyes and tense posture. She dropped the towel and stood, slowly, to face him again. “Luka, what is this about?” 

After an intense pause between them, he sighed and dug in his pocket to produce a little velvet box and tossed it over to her. She caught it, and when she fumbled it open to find a small cushion cut diamond set in a delicate gold band, her hand flew up to cover her mouth. When she looked back up at him, he hadn’t moved. He was still tense, those stormy eyes watching her reaction. This must’ve been why he’d been out at gigs more often lately. Who knew how long it had taken him to scrape together his tips to buy this as well as keep his part of the bills paid. 

He’d had a plan tonight. To propose to her. And she’d picked a fight with him. 

He scoffed and ran his injured hand through his hair before he brushed past her again. Back to the bedroom where he kept his instruments. She expected him to lock himself inside, but he came back a moment later with his acoustic strapped to his back. He glanced back at her once, then grabbed his jacket and yanked the door open. 

She was frozen. She wanted to tell him to stay. She wanted to tell him she loved him and they could work it out. But in that last glance she could see how long he’d kept this to himself. She could see his struggle, the weight on him. She was never home. Off with Adrien, focused on her work. He was never home. Off trying to make a name for himself, trying to build a life for them. They never saw each other. Tonight was proof enough of that. 

So she watched as he paused on the doorstep. She watched as he looked back at her with all the hurt written so plainly across his face, along with regret. And she watched as he shook his head and turned away to pull the door closed after himself. 

She didn’t know how long she stood there after he left, staring at the closed door, holding the little box containing what was supposed to be her engagement ring.

When her body finally released itself from its paralysis, she wiped away tears she hadn’t realized had been streaming down her face. Numbly, she set the box on the table and knelt to resume dabbing at the splotch of red wine on the carpet. But no matter how she tried, it wouldn’t come up. It had set in. She kept rubbing at it, her tears starting to flow again, her body convinced that if she could fix this. If she could get this stain out. If she could undo the damage that had been done. He’d come back. 

Her rubbing became more vigorous, frantic, as the stain stayed put and even started feathering along the edges; she wasn’t fixing anything, just spreading it around, making it worse. With a strangled yell, she threw the towel to the other side of the room where it made a wet splat against the wall and slid down, streaking the wall pink as it went. Something felt like it drained out of her. Hope, maybe. She sank back down to her knees to sob into her hands. 

She heard her phone buzzing insistently on the kitchen counter where she’d left it. It made her pause and wipe at her eyes. The salt from her tears hit the small cuts on her hands from the glass shards that were still scattered across the spot where Luka had been standing. 

Her phone stopped buzzing. 

In a daze, she grabbed the other glass of wine on the table. Her hands shook as she tried to raise it to her lips, and her sobs started wracking through her again. He left. He was gone. He wasn’t coming back. The words ripped through her, growing in intensity until it was all she could hear. All she could feel. 

He wasn’t coming back. 

An animalistic shriek tore out of her chest as she hurled the full wine glass at the closed door. It burst on impact. The shards scattered as the wine ran down the door.

“Fine! Leave!” Her voice cracked as she half-screamed, half-sobbed. 

Her phone started buzzing again and she marched over to pick it up. “What? What do you want?” She yelled at whoever was on the other end. She didn’t really care who it was. 

“Sweetie?” Her mom’s voice. It reached something down deep inside Marinette. Something about home and comfort and safety. “Are you okay? I got a text from Luka. He said I should check on you? What’s going on?” 

“Maman…” Her brief flash of anger melted. Became what it really was. Deep, agonizing pain. A shard of glass lodged deep in her heart, splitting her in two. She looked around at the apartment, at the remnants of her life with him. All she was left with. A stained carpet, a stained wall, a stained door. Shattered glass everywhere, twinkling innocently in the light. A diamond ring still in its box on the table. She sobbed again and leaned down on the counter to cover her hot, tear-stained cheeks. “Luka… he… he left.” Her voice broke on the last word. “How could he just leave?” 

There was a pause on her mom’s end as she let Marinette cry. For her part, Marinette slid down the kitchen counter to sit on the hard, cold kitchen tile and hide her face in her knees. Her phone buzzed in her hand with an answering text from Adrien, but she didn’t care to check it. How was she supposed to go back to work tonight? 

After a few minutes, her mom started humming. A gentle, soft tune that Marinette remembered from kneading bread beside her dad for all those years. From being sick at home, her mom brushing her hair back from her forehead to check her temperature. It calmed the tide of tears, just as it was meant to. Home. She sniffed and wiped her face and took a deep breath before she stood back up on shaky knees.

The sight of the destruction she’d caused made her choke up again, but she was able to hold herself together. She should finish cleaning up. She should meet Adrien like she’d said. She should soldier on and get her work done. The show had to go on. But she couldn’t come back here. Not tonight. Not for a while. She drifted over to the table and closed the ring box with a soft snap. 

“Maman, do you think I could come and stay a few days?” she asked quietly. Her mom agreed, and Marinette heard her start to call out to her dad. “No, no, don’t tell Papa,” she rushed to say. “At least, not everything. Not yet.” She bit her lip as tears threatened again. 

She didn’t want to hear the thundering threats to Luka’s safety. She didn’t want that. She didn’t want him hurt any more than he already was. Must be. He hadn’t left her easily, she knew that much. He’d wanted to make it work. He’d wanted to marry her. She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes one more time before she tucked her hair behind her ears and considered her next steps. 

“Hey, Maman? How would you go about getting a red wine stain off a wall?” 

* * *

A few days later, Luka went back for the rest of his things. He wasn't entirely surprised to find the apartment exactly as he'd left it. Complete with the wine stain on the carpet, although she'd attempted to clean it, and the little velvet box sitting on the table. He steeled himself and walked past it. 

It took him several trips to get the instruments packed into the back of Ivan's van and two more for his clothing and the few decorations he'd brought with him from the Liberty. Marinette didn't come back the entire time. Although he didn't know what he would've said or done if she had come back. 

Some small part of him had hoped to see the apartment in pieces. To see her upset, distraught, missing him. But it was a small part and easily quashed. He didn't want Marinette to be upset. Not really. He'd done enough damage. 

As he packed the last box away, he turned to look back at the closed door. He dug her key from out of his wallet and clutched it in his hand before going up the steps one last time to tuck it under the mat. 

He touched his fingertips to the door before he leaned down to press his forehead against it. A part of him had broken off in this apartment and would never leave. 

The ring he'd left on the table. As far as he was concerned, he'd bought it for her and it would always be hers. 

* * *

Backstage after Marinette's show, Adrien caught her up in a hug and kissed her cheek before he pulled away. Her heart flew straight to Luka. Adrien caught her eyes and held both of her hands in his. 

"Call him," he said gently. "I know he'd want to congratulate you." 

She shook her head, barely holding back tears. "I can't," she managed to say. "I just can't." 

Of course that lasted until about two hours and four cocktails into the after-party. Marinette was feeling pleasantly numb, except her fingertips were buzzing. She blinked back tears as she dialed his number. She'd deleted his contact information in a moment of anger, but she still had it memorized. 

It went to voicemail after the second ring. He'd seen it was her, then. She hiccuped right as his message started up. It was so achingly familiar she almost broke down again. But she took a deep breath as his message ended and dove in. 

"Hi, it's me. Uh, Marinette, although you… probably already knew that." She let out an embarrassed chuckle. "The show was tonight. It went great. There's a fashion house in… uh… London, I think, that made me an offer and it's this amazing opportunity and…" Her breath hitched and she paused. She wanted to tell him she missed him. She wanted to tell him how much she'd wanted to share this with him. She wiped at her cheeks and forced a bright smile on her face instead. "Anyways, I just wanted you to know. Okay. Bye." 

She hung up and thunked her phone against her forehead before turning to get back inside. 

* * *

The day after Marinette called him, Luka gave in and listened to the message with a small smile. Of course the show went well. He'd never had a doubt. And London. London would be amazing for her. 

It was the pause after she told him about London, though. The small catch of breath. She'd been crying, although she wouldn’t want him to know that. 

His finger hovered over her contact picture. From a better time. He was in the frame, too, and she was smiling as she kissed his cheek. He was laughing at her. She'd insisted on a selfie with him and surprised him at the last second. He couldn't bring himself to delete the picture. 

He glanced up and Juleka was watching him from across the table with raised eyebrows. He drummed his fingers against the table, dispelling his nervous energy, before he typed up a text message to her. 

_L: happy for you. london’s awesome_

He waved the screen at Juleka before he tucked his phone away in his back pocket. She didn't say anything, but her teasing was minimal and Luka knew she was worried. 

His phone buzzed with her response sometime during the night, but he ignored it after another warning glance from Juleka. She was right. It was a bad idea. He shouldn't be contacting Marinette. It was still too fresh, too new for both of them. He was only making it harder on them both. 

But when he checked it alone in his old bed that night, he didn't think contacting her would be much of a problem for much longer. 

_M: Thanks, starting there on Monday, leaving tomorrow._

He sighed. It was for the best, then. That it happened when it did. She could go to London. She could follow her dreams without having to worry about him. He wasn't holding her back anymore. 

_L: what time? i'll be there_

* * *

Marinette stared in disbelief at the message that was most definitely on her screen. Most definitely on her conversation with Luka. Most definitely about seeing him again. 

Her throat went dry. Everything in her head was screaming bad idea. Everything in her heart was screaming his name. She glanced at the velvet box on her bedside table. He hadn't taken it with him when he cleared out the rest of his stuff. She hadn't known what to do with it. 

Out of curiosity, she pulled the ring out of its box and slipped it onto her left hand ring finger. It fit perfectly. The delicate band suited her small, slender hand. The diamond was beautifully clear and sparkled every time it caught the barest hint of light. Not that it mattered. Coming to see her off wasn't the same at all as repeating his offer. Not repeating, she reminded herself. She hadn't let him in the first place. 

Her thumbs hovered over her screen and did an uncertain dance as she considered how to respond. The light from her table lamp glinted off the diamond and solidified her resolve. She typed in where he could meet her and what time, shut her phone off for the night, and turned to fold her pillow around her head. It didn't help muffle her spiral of anxiety, or the building hope in her chest. 

* * *

Luka arrived late, entirely on purpose. The plan was—he chuckled at the thought. Plans were her thing. She'd be proud. They never seemed to work out for him. Anyway, the plan was he'd stand back, wait until she was just about to get on the plane. Wave. And that'd be it. 

Of course it couldn't be that simple. Her mom and dad had come to see her off, too. And Adrien, who was going with her. He was talking animatedly to Tom, his blond hair shining in the sunlight. 

But as Luka squinted against the glimmer that kept chasing across his face he realized it wasn't Adrien's hair causing it. It was Marinette's hand. Her right hand, where his ring was nestled on her ring finger. 

She caught his eye as she talked and paused, gesturing with her head for him to come over. He glanced at her dad, then at Adrien, and felt his lips getting thinner as he pressed them together. He shook his head. 

Her smile slipped, but she nodded at him and jumped back into the conversation as if nothing had happened. 

Adrien glanced over once. Their eyes met. It wasn't what Luka had expected to see. He wasn't smug, or triumphant, or even happy, really. He nodded at Luka solemnly, but without condemnation. An understanding that Luka hadn't dreamed to think of from him. When Luka broke eye contact and ran a hand through his hair, Adrien didn't look back over again. 

Marinette made some excuse and tripped on her way over to him. He moved to catch her, but she caught herself and straightened up with the barest hint of a blush tingeing her cheeks. 

"I hope you don't mind," she said quietly, pointing to her hand. "No one knows, and I figured…" 

"No, yeah." He swallowed past the lump in his throat and nodded. "It's yours. Do whatever you want with it." 

"Oh." She blinked at him, as if she hadn't expected him to say that, and he saw a small crack start to break through her façade. "Um… okay, good. That's good."

There was a pause between them. He shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to ignore the way she smelled like warm sugar. The way he wanted to pull her close and breathe her in. She was getting on a plane, he reminded himself. They weren't together anymore and she was leaving for London. Everything was going the way it was meant to. Stay in the moment. 

Except she reached out to brace herself against his elbow like she always did right before she leaned in to kiss his cheek. His jaw tensed before he could help it and she hesitated, her lips a mere inch away from his skin, her breath fanning through the short hair by his ear. He locked eyes with her and everything stopped. 

The call for her flight echoed over the loudspeakers and he breathed a sigh of—not relief, not exactly, but maybe release. He steadied her before he stepped away. His fingers squeezed her arm lightly before he could stop them, reassuring her.

But his movement away from her seemed to confirm something for her. Her brave face crumpled for a split second and he saw her as she was. Scared, hurt. Angry, even. Tears threatened in her gorgeous blue eyes before she blinked and hid them from him again. 

She looked down and fiddled with the ring on her right hand. After a moment of thought—or hesitation, he couldn’t tell—she wiggled it off. She took his hand and placed the ring in the center of his palm and closed his fingers around it. When she looked up at him again, there was no façade, no brave face, nothing she was hiding. Just a resolute, calm agreement between the two of them. It was for the best. She covered his hand with hers and gave him a small smile. 

“Goodbye, Luka,” she murmured, her voice full of fondness and certainty. 

He reached up to cup her cheek and wipe a tear away with his thumb before it snuck down her cheek. “Goodbye, Marinette. And good luck.” 

She nodded and pulled away from him, sniffling as she still tried to hold back the tide of tears. He knew as soon as she was alone she’d let herself crumble. He glanced back up at Adrien and caught his eye. They had another moment of shared understanding as Luka silently asked him to take care of her and he nodded back to agree he would. As Marinette rejoined the group, Adrien put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her to him before shouldering her bag and ushering her into the line to get on the plane. 

She turned back once. Right before she stepped on. Her tears were finally flowing freely down her face and she raised a hand to wave back at him. At her mom and dad, too, he knew, and at the city she loved. He waved back and she flashed him a determined smile through her tears as she turned back around. 

She’d be okay. 

He turned to walk away before Tom or Sabine got the chance to come over and talk to him. Not that he wouldn’t if they had really wanted to, but he also couldn’t. Especially not Tom. He’d become like a father over the years—Luka had hoped they would be family sooner rather than later—and Luka couldn’t bear hearing him express his judgment, or worse, his disappointment. 

He clutched the ring in his hand until the contours of the diamond impressed themselves into his palm. It was for the best. It was meant to be this way. Stay in the moment. Count each breath. 

All of his grounding techniques, all of his meditation practice, all of his hard work to master his emotions, led up to this moment so he could walk away from the life he’d wanted with his head held high. 

He made it back to the Liberty, although he wasn’t entirely sure how. He uncurled his fingers and the ring had nestled itself into his skin. He took another deep breath and released everything. Every painful splinter of glass that still coursed through his blood made his heart shudder until he could barely breathe. 

Juleka found him on his knees, curled over the last remnant of Marinette he had left, his eyes hidden behind his hand as he wept. He knew it was Juleka instead of his mother because she didn't say anything. She didn’t grab his arm and haul him up. She didn’t tell him to move on, or remind him that she thought it was a bad idea to see her again. She crouched behind him, wrapped her arms tightly around his shaking shoulders, and leaned her head against him. 

Finally, gradually, he came to. He nodded to let Juleka know he was okay. She could let go. She did, and he braced himself against her to stand up again on unsteady knees. 

The ring glinted back at him in the fading sunlight. He glanced at Juleka and offered it to her silently. She and Rose were due. It would be most practical to hand it off, save her the expense. But she just raised an eyebrow at him and gestured with her head to the river before she patted his shoulder again and walked away. 

He looked down at the tiny gold band in his hand one more time before he peered into the dark waters of the Seine lapping against the boat. He reached out and tipped his hand slowly, waiting for the moment the ring would slip off his palm. But he’d been holding it so tightly for so long, it was glued to him. He hesitated. Maybe he should hang onto it. Maybe one day—

And with that thought, he resolutely turned his hand completely over. The ring succumbed to gravity and he didn’t even hear a splash as it slipped beneath the water. 

He couldn’t carry her around with him anymore. 

It was over. 

**Author's Note:**

> So, yes, you can totally choose to read this on its own and believe that this is where it ended. 
> 
> Ooooor you can hop over here and read the [make up fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28017150) that takes place three years later. I mean, your call. 
> 
> Either way, * _adjusts helmet and braces shield_ * anyone need to throw things in the comments?


End file.
